“Have you ever seen a werewolf smile,” the old man stated matter-of-factly.
No one in the crowded watering hole spoke a word, not even the 20-something he held pinned against the bar.
“That’s right,” he growled menacingly to the young punk who had been picking at him, “And you don’t want too, either.”
Once released, the punk backed away, soaked in the crotch, leaving the old man to nurse his several beers and shots of whiskey in peace.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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